I watched, heart pounding, as Cronus lifted the goblet. My father tilted his head back, downing every last drop. He didn't hesitate. He never did. He tilted his head back and drank—deeply, greedily—as if mocking the very gods who would dare deceive him.
The moment the poison touched his throat, Cronus's eyes widened, their golden sheen flaring like twin suns under eclipse. He choked mid-swallow, jaw clenching, hands trembling as he crushed the goblet in his grip with a metallic crunch.
His gaze swept the chamber—slow, feral—and settled on the two of us: the two new cupbearers.
"What is this?" Cronus rasped, voice like a blade dragged across stone. The goblet fell from his hand and shattered, wine bleeding across the obsidian floor like spilled blood. His golden eyes fixed on me as I stepped forward, my disguise falling from my shoulders.
His lip curled. "You."
There it was—that bitter recognition. The fury. The contempt. The betrayal he couldn't yet comprehend.
I met his gaze and held it.
"It didn't have to come to this," I said softly, my voice steady. "You could've chosen differently."
Cronus grunted and reached for the scythe leaning against his throne, but his limbs faltered. His knees buckled beneath him, and he collapsed like a crumbling statue, gripping the arms of his throne in desperation.
Behind me, Zeus dropped his own disguise in a ripple of static and white-blue light. Sparks crackled around his fists.
"Whoa," one of the guards muttered. "What's—?"
"Leave," I said, not looking at them.
They didn't hesitate. Even Titans knew when the sky was about to fall.
Cronus heaved forward, groaning, his hands scraping the polished floor. The muscles in his throat bulged—tightening, then swelling unnaturally.
Then he screamed.
The sound wasn't loud. It wasn't even angry. It was raw. Ancient. A wounded cry. Something primal twisted in my stomach, but I didn't look away.
His throat expanded again, ballooning like a frog's sac. His jaw cracked sideways, unhinged. Then, with a violent lurch, he vomited something that hit the ground with a dull metallic thud.
A stone. The swaddled decoy Rhea had once handed him.
His body trembled. His lips peeled back in a grotesque rictus. Again, the bulging throat. The convulsing muscles.
Another heave—another form spilled out.
This time not a stone.
A head. Slick with bile. Hair matted.
Hestia.
I took a step forward as she rolled over, coughing and gasping, coated in black mucus. Her eyes fluttered open. Confusion. Pain.
Then—recognition.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came.
Another scream behind me—Cronus had begun retching again. The next form hit the floor harder.
Demeter.
Then Hera.
Then Poseidon.
They emerged in spurts, each accompanied by that grotesque expansion of Cronus's throat, that gurgling horror as their bodies were expelled—whole, but changed. Time and stomach acid had not broken them, but it had scarred them. They coughed and writhed on the floor, blinking against the firelight and shadows of the throne room.
Cronus groaned one last time and collapsed beside his throne. His mouth hung open, dribbling ichor. His chest rose and fell unevenly, like a broken bellows.
He was unconscious.
Alive—for now.
I turned to our newly freed siblings.
Demeter was cradling her stomach, shaking. Hera held herself up on one elbow, eyes darting like a cornered beast. Hestia wept softly, reaching for the edge of her chiton, trying to wipe the bile from her face.
Poseidon sat upright, breathing heavily. His right arm—what remained of it—was just a stump, raw and bandaged with old divine cloth. I'd heard Cronus hadn't taken it well when Poseidon tried to fight back before being devoured.
"Wha—where…?" Hera rasped.
Zeus stepped forward.
"Don't be afraid," he said, lightning crackling softly at his fingertips. "You're free now."
Hera blinked at him. "Who—?"
"I'm Zeus," he said proudly, squaring his shoulders. "Your brother. I saved you."
Poseidon grunted, rubbing his forehead. "Wait—saved us?"
He squinted at Zeus. "Who the Hells is the little brat with sparks on his hands?"
Zeus's mouth twitched. "Excuse me?"
I sighed. "Poseidon…"
He turned to me and froze. His sea-green eyes widened. "Hades?"
I gave a nod.
"You've… grown."
"A lot can change in a century inside a stomach," I said.
He looked between Zeus and me again. "So this runt's our baby brother?"
Zeus opened his mouth to argue—but I cut him off with a raised hand.
"Yes," I said. "That's Zeus. Youngest of us. Not subtle, but effective."
Zeus huffed beside me but said nothing.
I turned to the others. "There's no time for questions. Cronus will wake. Others will come. We have to go."
Raising my hand I tried to create a portal back to the cave. It took a while to focus to create a vertical slit formed in the air, before expanding into a large doorway.
Zeus blinked. "You didn't tell me you could do that."
"You never asked."
Hera stared at it like it was a pit.
"That's our escape?"
"It'll take you to where we have been staying," I said. "Mother, will be waiting for us there ."
The first to go through were Hestia, Hera, and Demeter, They were soon followed by Poseidon and Zeus.
I was about to follow—when something made me pause.
Cronus lay there, twitching in his sleep, ichor seeping from his lips. Even now, part of me wanted to reach for him. To understand why.
But that was a dead boy's desire.
I turned away.
Let him dream of power and golden ages. The world had moved on.
I stepped through the portal—and let the shadows swallow me whole.
☼
Unlike the others I emerged from the shadows and found myself standing at the edge of a lush, untouched forest. The mid-afternoon sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled patterns of gold and green across the forest floor. The air was thick with the scent of pine and wildflowers, a fragrance so pure it almost seemed unreal. Soft whispers of wind moved through the leaves, carrying with them the quiet rustle of nature's pulse.
I took a step forward, and then another, my movements slow and deliberate. My fingers brushed gently against the petals of a cluster of roses that seemed to glow under the sun's warm touch.
The forest stretched endlessly before me, an expanse of green as far as the eye could see, teeming with the quiet hum of life. A distant stream wound its way through the woods, its water sparkling as it caught the light. The sound of it, gentle and steady, blended perfectly with the rustling leaves and the occasional call of birds hidden within the trees.
I inhaled deeply, the clean, crisp air filling my lungs, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I allowed myself to truly relax. The weight of everything—of the years spent trapped, of the endless years dealing with my siblings… and their unique personalities.
I really needed this, a moment to simply relax without them bugging me every couple minutes. Now that I am finally free there is so much that I can't wait to do. God, I can finally have some actual food for once.
As I walked, a cluster of purple flowers caught my eye. I crouched down to get a better look, a smile tugging at my lips. "Wow, is that an Orchid?" I whispered to myself.
But just as the words left my mouth, all the excitement drained from my body. My mother loved Orchids. I could see her now, a soft smile on her face as my father would bring her a fresh bouquet after each work trip. The thought hit me like a wave, overwhelming in its simplicity. Gods, I had been so caught up in the thrill of living as a god that I'd forgotten all about my old life.
It has been nearly a century. I had spent an entire human lifetime trapped in my father's stomach. The realization hit me like a blow to the chest, and I staggered back, my hand falling away from the flower.
My parents. My old life. They are gone now. They'd likely mourned my death, as any parent would—no one wants to outlive their child. What a gift I had given them. I ran a hand through my hair, gripping it tightly as the reality hit me. I would live for centuries. If I allowed myself to get too close to any mortal, I'd only watch them fade away while I remained.
The emotions built like a storm—grief, guilt, fury—pressing against the walls of my chest until something inside me snapped. My body convulsed, and then—
They tore free.
A sudden weight, a rush of wind, a ripping of flesh sound that echoed through the air.
Six enormous wings burst from my back, they had black beautiful feathers and extended to about 15 feet in length as they unfurled—wide, feeling a little more heavy. The power in them was overwhelming, primal. I staggered, gasping, feeling the wind flow through each feather.
I hadn't even known that I had them. My whole life and I never knew that I could fly.
I leapt—and nearly crashed face-first into a tree.
The force of my wings kicked in a second too late, flinging me upward with a jolt that sent my balance spiraling. My arms flailed, feathers whipped in every direction, and for a moment, I wasn't flying—I was falling with style.
But then, instinct took over.
I adjusted, beat my wings harder, steadier. The wind howled in my ears, tearing at my clothes, dragging my hair into a wild storm behind me. The forest dropped away beneath me, a blur of green shadows and golden light.
Higher I climbed, shakily at first, then with growing control. My muscles burned. My heart raced. But gods, it was freedom.
At nearly 30,000 feet, I stopped, hovering in the thin air. The view was breathtaking, but it only deepened my sorrow. This land was beautiful, yes, but it wasn't mine. My world was gone, and I was a stranger here.
"You've left everything behind," I whispered to myself. "Your parents, your life, her…" My voice broke, and I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away. But they wouldn't leave. The guilt and grief pressed down on me, a weight I couldn't shake.
With a roar of frustration, I dove toward the earth, my wings folding close to my body. The air grew hotter around me as I plummeted, the sound barrier breaking with a deafening boom. The ground rushed up to meet me, and I didn't stop.
I crashed into the side of a mountain, the impact shaking the earth and leaving a massive crater in my wake. Dust and debris filled the air, and I lay there for a moment, staring up at the sky through the settling haze. My chest heaved as I gasped for air, the adrenaline coursing through my veins barely masking the ache in my heart. The ground beneath me was warm, solid, and real—unlike the fleeting memories that haunted me.
My parents' faces swam before my eyes. My mother's gentle smile as she watered her beloved orchids in the kitchen window. My father's boisterous laugh as he recounted tales of his work trips over dinner. They were so vivid, so alive in my mind, that it was almost unbearable to remember they were gone.
I closed my eyes, but that only made it worse. I could see the scene play out as if it were yesterday: my mother's teary-eyed relief whenever my father returned home, the way he'd pull her into his arms and kiss her forehead. The bouquet of orchids he always brought her, no matter how tired he was from traveling.
My wings folded around me like a cocoon, shielding me from the world. The pain was still there, a dull ache in my chest, but it felt... like a weight had been lifted off my shoulder.
"At least I saved her," I murmured as my thoughts went to the girl I had met before I had died, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. "Could've been worse. She's probably out there living her best life."
The thought brought some comfort, though it didn't completely dull the ache. I sighed, letting the memory fade as I looked out over the landscape. Greece was wild and untamed, a canvas of green hills and jagged peaks stretching into the distance. And here I was, living as one of the gods I'd spent my entire life studying.
That realization struck like a lightning bolt, jolting me out of my brooding. "I spent years working and studying to be a mythologist," I muttered. "And now I am living mythology." My chest tightened—not with grief this time, but with excitement. I wasn't just reading about history; I was part of it. I had the knowledge, the perspective, and now the opportunity to change things, to make them better.
The weight of sorrow began to lift as a new sense of purpose took its place. My old life had been full of limitations, but this life? It was wide open, full of potential. I could prepare for what was coming, use what I knew to shape a better future—not just for myself but for this world.
With renewed energy, I stood and stretched, shaking off the dust of the past. My wings unfolded, powerful and majestic, and with a few strong flaps, I sent a cloud of dirt and debris into the air. "No more moping," I said firmly. "Time to move forward."
I turned my gaze toward Mount Ida, its peak piercing the sky like a promise. Rhea was waiting, and my journey was just beginning. With a final glance at the crater I'd left behind, I launched into the air, the wind rushing past as I soared toward the mountain, toward my new family.